


a thousand reasons why.

by caesuraes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, Hurt No Comfort, I wrote this on a whim, Introspection, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode Ignis Verse 2, Self-Harm, Substance Abuse, maybe there will be a happy ending ?, this is just a shit fest ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesuraes/pseuds/caesuraes
Summary: Even with the dawn, everything kept on crumbling as Insomnia reemerged from the ashes.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, brief mention of unrequited Noctis/Ignis
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	1. i don't believe in you & i.

— I have always known this would come to be, my liege — Ignis answered, tone devoid of emotion. But Noctis could see the way his knuckles had turned white, tension pooling on his forehead. — You shouldn’t preoccupy yourself with such matters. — and the King wanted nothing more than shake his Advisor by the shoulders, and scream until he'd react.

It was Gladiolus _marriage_ they were talking about. The same Gladiolus Ignis had shared that one open secret of a relationship for years. After surviving ten years in darkness together, Gladiolus had waltzed in the throne room, informed he was to marry one noblewoman and left. Noctis had never felt such intense whiplash, but nothing cracked through Ignis' porcelain features.

Ignis sighed before kneeling in front of him. Pain shined through that one fake and polite smile he always had ready and, gods. _Could a King murder his Shield?_ — It’s his duty, your Highness. It has always been. And I choose to stand by his side, knowing this day would come. — raw honesty filled the Advisor's voice, heartfelt sadness dripping from his teeth as if each word drew blood from his soul. It was an admission, and it was a stab. — Any pain I am facing right now is my own fault.

With those words, the man was gone.

Even with the dawn, everything kept on crumbling as Insomnia reemerged from the ashes.

* * *

He once thought there was no ache that could surpass falling in love with the man that saw him as nothing but a small brother. How wrong he had been. Ignis’ solemn expression, swollen eyes giving his torment away, was the worst heartbreak he ever experienced. It wasn't fair. Iggy shouldn't have to endure any more pain. And yet, there he stood: a proud groomsman to the love of his life, now lost. He did it all for Gladiolus. He was there because he knew the Amicitia needed him. He'd arranged all the details of the event because he knew better than anyone else ever could. Every food was his choice, as were the flowers and decorations. Gladiolus exchanged empty vows before the priest, and Noctis felt ashamed for him. How did he dare do this? Such sacred words belonged only to the Scientia, and the ones that knew Gladio could tell.  
It was a bliss his beautiful wife did not, perhaps.

When Ignis shared his last hug with Gladiolus, Noctis swore everyone could hear his Advisor's heart shattering. The blond did not shed one single tear, but such dry agony proved itself the most melancholic of them all.

* * *

When the festivities were over with, the first thing Ignis did was get Gladiolus all alone. They hadn’t spoken for months, he was sure — he was still in love, damned all rationality, and counted the days. The only words exchanged surrounded the wedding preparations, and nothing more. Ignis had kept to himself, and they didn't even feel like friends anymore — the Scientia was aloof, polite but never gentle. As realization dawned on him, however, so did bitterness. What else would this miserable life take away from him? Was there anything to take, still? Facing his now married lover was probation from the Gods, and Ignis would never (could never) succeed. 

He wanted Gladiolus to _hurt_. Wanted his words to sting, so it would be all the Amicitia could think about in his wedding night. The rage that burnt through Ignis’ insides transformed itself in icy resolve, and their hearts were miles apart in such a small room. Something ugly burnt his throat, and Ignis felt like a wild creature, fatally wounded. He had to remind himself of the objective of their reunion as control began to slip from his trembling fingers, but it was hard to think. All he wanted to do was embrace Gladio, feel his arms and convince himself they could still be together. All he wanted to do was punch Gladiolus and rip him to shreds. _Maybe then you’ll understand how much I hurt_. 

He did neither. From the pocket of his jacket, Ignis took out a ring, and the Shield gasped. He was the one that had gifted the golden band to Ignis, years ago when they were nothing but silly teenagers with _so much_ hope. It was a promise — now, a broken one. He avoided touching Gladio's skin as he shoved the ring back to his calloused hands. The metal was scorching in his possession, and Ignis refused to carry such weight by himself any longer. — I suppose this has no use anymore. — admitting the truth out loud was the last breath of their love, or so it seemed. He turned his back to the man, not before admiring his expression one last time. Nevermore. — Congratulations, Gladiolus. May your happiness last a lifetime. — it was a cruel joke on his lips, words tasting sour. He bid his farewell with calculated aloofness as if the lives they had spent together meant nothing.

And it didn’t.

* * *

Ignis was drunk, and it wasn’t even the first time on that day alone. He laughed, no humour in the way his lips curled themselves up. _How pathetic_. He used to pride himself in the control he exercised, but no more: there was comfort in the alcohol warming his body, heavy after so many substances he’d use to survive the day. Even though nothing around him made any sense, his vision blurry, Gladio's voice still plagued his mind. It only urged him down his drunken stupor. No drinks were strong enough to erase the taste of his lover’s lips. He was doomed to remember, and he felt tears building up once more. It was all wrong. Maybe he should have died, that was a recurring thought. It would’ve been a more dignified ending, he thought, as he used his daggers to punctuate his own flesh. The pain made him shudder, lead dragging him down — at the same time, it was a relief. The pressure that crushed his bones seeped out as the blood spilt, and it was as peaceful as Ignis managed to be.

There was so much inside of him that needed to be addressed but never would. As long as he could keep appearances up, there was no need for Ignis to be okay. So he allowed himself to pass out, losing his grip on reality as the minutes passed. He did not want to think anymore, but his head still plagued him with dreams about Gladio’s sweet embrace.

* * *

— Do you think this is what dad would’ve wanted? — Iris had asked one evening, and Gladiolus didn’t know the answer. Even with a nephew on the way, Iris could never find it in her the strength to smile. Not when her brother was wasting away. How long was it, since she had last heard his booming laughter? How long was it, since he’d smiled? As she drowned in another beer, the words escaped her mouth. — She _can’t_ make you happy, Gladiolus.

The afternoon was quiet, and it shouldn’t be.

— I know.

It was never about happiness, after all.


	2. i'm not yours anymore.

Ignis could manage through the day without as much as a sigh, his shoulders never flinching as he crossed paths with Gladiolus Amicitia  .  This man was not the same he had fallen in love with more than a decade ago, and that made it easier to pretend he never had meant a thing . Now, he was nothing more than a shadow, expression as stoic as Ignis’, and no burning sun could quite shine through.

The Shield was in pain, of course.  Ignis didn’t want to be aware of that fact, much less wanted to care about it — the cavernous depths that hid  in between  his ribs longed to feast themselves with the man’s pain, after all  .  But, no matter how much he’d tried to forget what years of loving Gladio taught him, green eyes still followed his every step, wherever he went  .  His Gladio did not cry often, but he had plenty of signs when stricken with hues of melancholy, and Ignis still recognized them all  .  The  barely  concealed shift in his tone, vocal cords trembling with an unusual lack of confidence  .  The particular way his gaze moved in rapid succession as if he wanted to pay attention in too many things all at once  . The light furrowing of his brows, small lines  being drawn  out in his forehead, entire face tensed up.  The defensive posture — crossing his arms, or  maybe  shoving his hands down to the pockets of his uniform  .  Even his choice of words was different, filled with impatience, and his sentences felt like punches . Sharp, clinical, painful — but not quite deadly.

Hurt had become a monster, crooked teeth and long claws, and it ate Ignis alive — a parasite, he’d mumble to himself, the heavy emptiness consuming everything he was  . No carnal pleasure could drive it away, quick and dirty orgasms giving him nothing.  Any substance that could provide him with emotions, as fabricated as they were, fell flat: his tongue did not register the bitterness of alcohol anymore; caffeine was a habit with no flair; medication was useful to knock him out, but did not provide any true rest to the Advisor.

So what if Gladiolus was in pain?, his ribcage would shake in anger. He did what he had to do, his mind replied, as if any reasoning would make it all go away. Then he can dwell in his duty and choke, and his hands would curl themselves into fists.  And yet, every time the man passed by Ignis, head hanging low, something deep in his gut would wail, and Ignis had to restrain himself  .  His first instinct remained the same: the raging need to run into his lover’s arms, hide in his neck and inhale his scent, stuttering to offer him the most beautiful words so Gladio would grace his existence with a sincere smile  . _Pathetic_ , he realized once more, as his eyes would come to find his wedding ring glistening.

_At least you’re as miserable as I am._

And, after long months, Ignis no longer felt guilty for having such thoughts.

* * *

Whoever had said true love implicated the desire of seeing the object of one’s affections to be merry, even if it meant being with someone else, was nothing more than an idiot, Gladio was sure.

He handled himself with some propriety, he liked to think.  He and Ignis never had one argument after his marriage (although that merit was all due to the fact they didn't speak to one another), and everything that could concern their jobs ran without a hitch  .  Even when it came to more personal matters, Gladiolus buried Ignis and their memories somewhere inside his bones and forced a smile every time he went to bed, the feminine perfume throwing his stomach off as he cradled his wife  .  No one needed to know he’d only wake up hard when he dreamt of his past lover; or that he couldn’t find it in him to enjoy meals that weren’t prepared by Ignis; or even that he fell asleep every night thinking about the blond.

Even when the chamberlain went to work with the same clothes of the past day (and they’d always be pristine, of course, and Ignis would try to hide the fact he had not slept at home, but damn it , Gladiolus could see through that bullshit from miles away and it made his blood boil), he wouldn't do as much as blink  .  His artificiality was noticeable, but it was the best he could afford: if he tried to act more like a human being, he’d end up pining Ignis in the nearest wall, stripping him of the clothes that smelt of other people, and fucking  relentlessly  into him, bruising his entire body so Ignis would be _his_ again .

But _yeah_. Gladio kept his cool, even though Noctis insisted in staring as if his Shield was about to have a long coming mental breakdown. And, Gods, having to admit that his King was right proved to be a much bigger problem than he had expected. Because in all of this ridiculous plan, not once had Gladiolus allowed himself to think about Ignis moving on. After all, the Amicitia had willingly surrendered to a life of obligation and, as selfish as it was, there was a certainty in the back of his mind that Ignis would follow his steps. The man didn’t need to marry, and that fact only fueled the foolish hope in Gladio’s romantic heart that Ignis would wait for him. It sounded ridiculous, he was well aware. But, time and time again, as the Advisor would shrug off every possible suitor and remain unaccompanied in every gala he attended, Gladiolus held such dreams even closer to his heart. _Maybe_ , he’d think, twirling around the room with his wife on his arms, _one day_.

(he had ruined it all and he didn’t deserve any more chances, but he prayed for them  nevertheless ).

* * *

When Ravus came into the picture,  however  , he  was forced  to face a reality he despised.

Gladiolus was there when Noctis received the man in his palace, exchanging amenities and updates from Altissia  .  Nothing seemed amiss, the relationships between them acquiring a soft edge with the years  .  Gladio didn’t even think much of Ravus’ request to meet up with Ignis — they had a lot of diplomatic talks to have, and the Advisor would be the more helpful one out of the three of them .

But the longer the Fleuret stayed in Insomnia, the faster the rumours spread. Ravus and Ignis became somewhat of a hot topic, because how could they not?  They were never seen apart from one another and, if the exciting talks from the old couple that lived across his house were to  be believed  , the bleach-blond was actually staying in Ignis’ fucking apartment  . The safe-haven only the closest of friends  were allowed  in. It had to be some sort of collective delirium, that was the only explanation Gladio would accept.

No amount of denial could help him when the man he still loved walked so close to Ravus, their hands brushing against one another ever so often  .  Ignis was never fond of physical displays of affection, much less so when there were witnesses, but Ravus didn’t seem to be aware of personal space — and the Advisor never moved away  .  Having to endure an entire reunion with them both was a nightmare, and the Amicitia had never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin . Ignis had that gleam in his eyes, a genuine smile on his face, because Mr Fancy had something to say.

It was unbecoming for a thirty-year-old Shield to behave in such manner, but he couldn’t manage to care.  The hot bouts of anger that spread through his veins  were dampened by  the sudden awareness of what he had lost — and it was quiet and devastating, crashing down on his back as shivers came in waves.

> ( a.  his childhood  was composed  of military training; there was never any fun; his life meant nothing . he never had any choice.

> b. he wasn’t allowed any love with a resemblance of normality.
> 
> c. his priorities were never his own.
> 
> d. there were no rose-tinted glasses. there was nothing above duty.
> 
> e. his heart beat faster, stronger, and it shouldn’t. shields couldn’t have needs.
> 
> f. his years related more to his job than to his life as a human being.
> 
> g.  after daemons, and darkness, and so many close calls, he’d forced himself to give up more and more parts of himself, his heart, his soul, his being .

> h. Ignis wasn’t his anymore. their relationship was now a lost echo, so close to disappearing. he’d never kiss this man again. he’d never feel his skin, his touch, his love.
> 
> i. why? )

Gladiolus couldn’t move, so he didn’t.  He remained there, gaze never darting away from Ignis’ figure, and it was soul-shattering  . He had tried, had always tried so hard . His own blood, spilt countless times, and he forbid himself the one happiness he’d secured.  When Ignis voice filled the room, his heart lurched — it was tearing itself apart, chest aching with a need that could never  be fulfilled .

Tears could never express that type of pain: ancient, overpowering, all-consuming. So Gladiolus sighed, hands trembling as he pleaded for solitude and forgiveness. How could he even begin to fix  all of  it?

_Does your heart still yearn for mine?_ , and Ignis’ eyes never quite met his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so? this is still messy and i have not one clue of where it will end, but.  
> (also, did you notice how much i love introspection yet?)  
> come talk to me, i promise i won't bite!

**Author's Note:**

> this was insipired by [ this amazing fic by xylianna! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866476) i had to get out the angsty feelings, and this was the (messy) result. hope it was a somewhat decent read! it's a bit all over the place, but welp. i'm not sure if i'll write a follow-up, but i'm too much of a coward to handle pure angst with no happy endings, lol. 
> 
> kudos and any feedback is highly appreciated!
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr! ](http://lettersforheloisa.tumblr.com/)


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